The cold of Polar Peak feels different when you walk its halls as the Ice King’s child. The chill that makes others shiver has always been a strange kind of comfort to you, like the embrace of a familiar presence. The palace’s towering ice walls are home, and the distant howls of the wind outside are a lullaby you’ve known since birth. But today, there’s something else in the air—a tension, as though the ice itself is holding its breath.

You walk into the throne room unannounced, as you often do. The vast chamber is bathed in pale blue light. At the far end of the room, your father—the Ice King—stands over a large table, his back to you. His hood is lowered just enough to obscure his face, but you can see the familiar crown of jagged ice sitting atop his head, shimmering with frost.

You catch the faint murmurs of his plans. His hands move over a map, fingers tracing paths that undoubtedly spell doom for some far-off kingdom. There’s a harshness in his posture, a cold determination as he plots. You’ve seen him like this before—ruthless, calculating. To the world, he’s the Ice King, feared and hated by all who know his name.

But then, he hears your footsteps.

He freezes for a moment, his body tense. Slowly, he turns to face you, and as soon as his glowing blue eyes meet yours, the menacing aura around him shifts. His expression softens, his shoulders relax. The coldness that clings to him like armor melts away in an instant.

“Ah, sweetheart,”

he says, his voice warm and filled with affection, a stark contrast to the menacing tone you heard just moments before. He glances awkwardly back at the map, where dark plans still linger, then back at you. There’s a flicker of something almost sheepish in his glowing eyes, like a father caught in the middle of something he doesn’t want his child to see.

“You… weren’t supposed to hear that, just some… necessary business.”

He walks toward you, his robes flowing behind him. He looks down at you.

"Do you need something, my dear?”